This, at least, is no surprise. This is as natural to her as the beat of her heart - and that's what makes it special. On Roevg, every gift is returned. Every blow is answered. Mastery lies in transformation - to take what someone else has given you and make something new of it. Some part of her would always have been wondering if Mirror did not answer her sabotage, but to see it now returned even more beautiful than she had imagined... Zaldar herself could not have done better.

She had no choice but to answer in kind.

She steps forwards into the shimmering spike of Mirror's dress, her sword, where it pools in front of her. She draws the spirits to herself, and they come swiftly to their old mistress. As she steps forwards into the final duel against the Anemoi she wears Mirror's dress, shaped to her body, shining in bridal white. Her katana is in her hands as she faces down the sword-wielding giant, still deadly even as its crystal fires gutter and burn low. 

The blade crashes down. She half runs, half scrambles away and for a moment it seems like the fire has caught her. Red races along her dress, up her body - but not fire, a reconfiguration of colour, so hot it burns into orange at where the light catches it. This, too, was a colour for brides. The sword of gold runs through the dress, merged into it, tracing from her heart outwards a network of golden thread in intricate, moving designs. As she crouches so does the golden thread curl into the shapes of a fierce tigress. As she leaps it snaps into the shape of a snake. A sprint takes her to the rising wrist of the Anemoi, dress trailing behind her in burning ribbons, golden thread unraveling into the air as she goes. Her silver sword raises high - 

Too slow. The Anemoi is perfect. It was ready for this too, a sudden and violent backhand smashes into Solarel and in an instant she's gone in a burst of bloody rose petals, falling through the sky like teardrops.

There is an awful silence. Golden thread lingers in the air. As it falls it patterns into words, lying across the grass like an epitaph.

BEHOLD MY GLORY...

But those weren't the words that were said out loud. Those were "レグナムカエロラム エトジェヘナ……"

The Aeteline swings around, raising its blade. It does not understand. It never learned this language. It had no need to. But that's why Solarel uses it now - the Sage Zaldar said Speak Not To The Outsider.

It sees its target standing distant on the field. 

Only golden thread wraps her now, surrounding her in falling, glittering spools. The crimson wedding dress is gone, falling on the white ash in a rain of petals. She is unhurt. She speaks again in her strange language, turning and pointing at the Aeteline with her extended blade, and as she does the golden words on the ground below her snap into a new configuration. 

ONE WHO HAS BEEN GIVEN EVERYTHING
GIVES YOU HER ULTIMATE TECHNIQUE
TWO LAYERS OF DEFENSE
TWO POINTS IN HEALTH
TWO STRIKES FOR VICTORY

The Aeteline bought its sword up. It was ready. It would resume this fi-ht a-d --en -- --ou-

"Omae wa mou shindeiru," said Solarel, turning away, closing her eyes as the skeletal head of the Aeteline shifted, severed diagonally, and fell to the ground.